


Old Scars

by ser_atlantisite



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Arguing, F/M, Fist Fights, Flashbacks, Fluffy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, I Tried, I'm Bad At Tagging, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2018-05-17 23:42:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5889643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ser_atlantisite/pseuds/ser_atlantisite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been a few years since her entire family died, but the young Cousland is getting past it. Mostly.</p><p>Sort of.</p><p>It would really help if her best friend wasn't dating one of the ones responsible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Scars

From my spot on the couch I could just see Anastasia’s bedroom door swing open. I focused harder on my book before anyone came out; I loved her, but my roommate and her new boyfriend needed more shame. I would have fled the apartment before now but the snowstorm had all of us trapped in here. I looked at my hound, staring sadly out our snow covered balcony. Soon I might just break down and walk him through the building out of desperation.

A boxer clad waist stepped in front of me and waited. I sighed and pulled off my noise cancelling headphones, looking up the tanned, tattooed body to its smiling face.

“Such an ugly expression, dear lady,” he chuckled.

“Do you need something Zevran?”

“Those truffles Stasia bought.”

I stomped down the images my brain tried to make. “Third cabinet, top shelf.” He bowed and turned for the kitchen. As he walked away I studied the art decorating his back (if he didn’t want me staring he would have worn a damn shirt). They were all symbols and images whose meaning went over my head, but it was spectacular to look at, I’ll admit. They formed one harmonious design, flowing out from a spot somewhere below his shoulder blade.

Wait…that central image looked familiar.

I got up and ran into the kitchen after him. I only got the briefest look at the eye of that storm before he turned to face me.

“Yes?”

“Turn around.”

“My dear, how very forward of you.” He had a sly smile.

I tried to keep my voice plain. “Zevran, please.” He must have heard something in it he didn’t like. He still wore a smile, but his eyes had gone hard. He gripped the countertop behind him and did not move. But it didn’t matter; I had remembered that mark, the bird brand with a wickedly sharp beak.

“You’re a crow.” The words barely came out past the panic.

He was silent for a long time, then let out a slow breath. “Yes. But let me—”

Rage punched through my skull. I threw my textbook at his head and he dodged, but I had already closed the gap between us. His nose broke under my knuckles. I wound up for another hit but his hand slammed into my throat and I choked. He kicked one of my legs out and I dropped hard onto my side. I caught both his legs with mine and twisted them. He half fell, catching and hanging off the counter. My leg that wasn’t stuck under him I drove into his chest once, twice, and then kicked myself off and crawled away. I scrambled up and across the kitchen for the knife block, spinning back with the closest blade ready. A dirty pot smashed into my hand and the knife bit into the floor.

The pot hovered between us like a shield, not moving. Behind it a blonde, blood smeared, and strained face watched me sharply. _The blood was Gilmore’s; I had seen his throat split open, watched the shower of red that sprayed from a cut artery, saw it coat that wicked, sneering face_. I screamed and grabbed the hand that held the pot with my left, stepping around it and smashing that face again. Pain sheared through my hand; I gritted my teeth and ignored it. He stumbled away from me but I tightened my grip, dragging him forward as I drove my elbow back into his teeth.

A low growl came from behind me; Dusk, letting me know I had backup. I didn’t need it. I grabbed the back of the elf’s neck and shoved him down, driving my knee into his ribs. His full weight suddenly pulled against my arms and I had to drop him. That was a mistake—that void forsaken brand stared up at me. Blood and death and my own screams and my brother’s tears tore through my head, and I needed that to stop. I reared back to stomp it out, but something bowled me over from behind. My shoulder cracked into the cabinets and I slid to the floor.

I pushed myself into a better position, ready to kick out at whoever came next. _More assassins— they worked in teams last time_. But it was only the redheaded mage, light fading from her palm and a horrified look on her face. She dropped to her knees and helped the elf as he tried to pick himself up.

“Zev, babe?” Her voice shook. He sagged against her shoulder and she held him, tightly, carefully. She turned on me, eyes blazing. “What were you doing?!!”

I tried to speak but nothing came. I only just felt the bruise forming on my throat. I took several deep breaths and tried to stand, leaning on my right arm. Pain sliced from my sprained hand into my shoulder and I grit my teeth. Alright then, other side. I grabbed the counter and hauled myself to my feet. I swallowed past the bruise and finally found my words. “He’s a…fucking crow.” My voice was husky and raw, even to my ears.

The fire died in Ana’s eyes and she turned back to the crow, pressing her face into his neck briefly before helping them both to stand. He was panting, his blood staining her t-shirt and covering his chest. But still she held him, putting herself ever so slightly between him and me.

The ground pitched under me feet. “You know?!” My voice was a lot stronger that time.

She looked up at me, holding him tighter, guilt straining her face. She nodded.

The crow finally looked up at me. He opened his mouth but only a gurgling noise came out. Ana raised a hand bathed in a golden healing spell and pressed it gently to his face, a loving caress. I didn’t fight the sneer that pulled at my mouth. He gave her a soft, grateful look before facing me.

“Yes, I was a Crow. Emphasis on was. They aren’t my life anymore.”

Rage flared in my head again. “What, did killing for money loose its glamour?”

“No, I…” His eyes flicked to Ana for a brief second, though she didn’t notice. “am no longer working with them.”

“But that doesn’t mean you’re clean of the life right?” He was smart enough to keep his mouth shut on that. Whatever his reason was, the love birds clearly hadn’t had that conversation yet. I braced against the bile that rose at my next question. “ _Were you part of my family’s massacre?_ ”

He started to shake his head but his eyes glazed over. “No, dear Lady. I was…elsewhere.”

“Killing for a different job you mean?”

He stood a little straighter. “Well if we are going to be completely honest, then—”

I went for his throat but hit a wall of air. Ana’s eyes were hard again as she stared me down. I caught myself trying to beat my way through. I had to turn away, pushing down my anger and disgust. This was my best friend, and here I was, trying to hurt the man she…

I looked back at Zevran, watched as he closed her glowing hand, the look he gave her that was his normal confidence and apologetic and brave, and all completely for her. Here were the last two people in all of Thedas who I thought could get serious, but they kept giving each other these _looks_. I don’t think they each even realized they were being looked at like that, but I knew that look.

 _Mother and Father smiling, holding each other and dancing after the guests and the musicians had long since left. Orian, moving to welcome my brother home, her smile as bright as the sky_. Those smiles were gone, leaving the pain that darkened my brother’s face as he fought to stay standing through the despair I watched crush him each year as we put new roses on their graves.

I pushed past Ana and her…and ran for the front door. No one tried to stop me. I shrugged on a random coat (cringing at the pain in my arm) and smashed the elevator button until the bell dinged and the doors opened. I did not look at any of the mirrors on the way down—I did not need to see what a mess I was right then. It was getting very hard to breath in the small space, and when the doors opened to the lobby there was no rush of fresh air. I needed out. I ran for the front door but stopped dead.

This _blighted blizzard_. The snow was higher than my hip. I couldn’t budge the door, let alone make it anywhere. I was going to suffocate and die right here. A mangled scream escaped me and I beat the cold glass of the door, sobbing pathetically until my hand hurt too much. I slid to the floor and just sat there, trying to curl up into myself, grateful at least our building didn’t have a doorman.

My stolen coat vibrated. I dug through it and pulled out my own cell phone (apparently it was also my coat). There was a new text from Alistair; “You really need to teach me the secret to your cocoa. Don’t think its s’posed to be this thick…”

Alistair…

I pushed dial. He picked up immediately. “Do you use a mix or make it from scratch or something? Because I’m starting to think I just made pudding by accident…” He was bright and full of energy as always. I closed my eyes and just listened to his voice as he rambled on about brownies and things until he noticed my silence. “Hey, are you alright?”

 _No. But Maker you sound so wonderful right now and I cannot bring you down with me_.

“Finn? Is something wrong?”

“My best friend loves a crow.” Fuck. There went that plan.

He was silent for a long moment, then said “So they told you?”

A headache began to form behind my eyes. “You know too?” My voice came out as a childish sob. Where had all my blighted self-control gone?

“I’m so sorry. Ana was trying to figure out how to mention it…” he took a shaky breath. “Are you mad at me?”

I pressed my hand over my eyes—I could feel tears starting to gather. “Sorry sweetie, I’m all out of mad right now.” A heavy lump was forming in my throat. We both waited until I could speak again. “Why do you know?”

“Anastasia asked me to run a background check when she found out. And well it’s certainly not like she was going to ask Cullen, because, you know…”

“Find anything?”

“Not me, Leliana. I was actually allowed to put half decent resources into it, since it was related to your…Well, anyways, there wasn’t much, which I guess is the point. An alias of his faked his death back home, which means there was trouble, which worries me. But then so does your unofficial bodyguard that he is dating, which for the record is the only reason I agreed to keep quiet.”

I pulled up my knees and rested my head on them. “Mm hmm,” I said into the phone. There, nice and neutral.

“Hmmm…”

“What?”

“You aren’t that far away, I think I could make it there through this flurry.”

I wanted that. Maker I wanted that so badly, more than…well, almost anything.

_A small body ran at me, excited as a puppy. “Auntie!” he shrieked…_

“Don’t you dare,” I heard myself say. “Besides, this is not where I want to be stuck.”

“Good point. Meet me halfway?”

“Stop that.” My heart twisted painfully, but I felt a smile, anyways.

“Sorry. I can’t believe they trapped you with this blizzard then told you.”

“They didn’t. I saw the brand and…reacted.”

“Oh, you, saw?” His voice became a different kind of concerned, though he tried valiantly to sound cool. “Where was it you saw? The brand I-I mean. Just, that’s seems like something they would try to keep, hidden…right? So I can’t imagine—“

“Relax, it was only on his back. What little remains of my modesty is intact, good ser.” His bashful, almost-jealous thing was cute. Suddenly I missed him a whole lot more. “Though if you’re really interested I could describe it for you…”

There was a great deal of exaggerated outrage. I stared at the stone patterns in the tile, trying to picture Alistair’s face—his blush and the way his nose crinkled when he was flustered, but turning slowly into that grin as his ramblings got more ridiculous, _the blood pouring down his face from the nose I broke_ —

Shit.

Realization hit with a wave of nausea. “He didn’t fight back.” The words forced themselves out. A bit of half-assed self defense was all Zevran had done. He was a crow; he should have hurt me. But he hadn’t. “I hit him, a lot, but he didn’t…I…” I felt sick. The tears finally burst and I cried, alone, on the floor of the lobby, into my phone.

“I’m serious. One word and I’ll come over.” I heard the strength of that promise, and everything behind it he wasn’t saying aloud.

“I know.” I managed to say. I love you, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Who let me onto this site?  
> I'll apologize for doing this but reading was on you (thanks for that, tho, whatever you thought of it)  
> My first official fic. This wasn't even the story that started this whole universe but it was the first to get finished so imma just role with it.


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